


My Name

by Katiedonna



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, this is a story about a great horse who saves the life of a little prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiedonna/pseuds/Katiedonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Told from the perspective of Valacallon.<br/> " I am Valacallon. It means Mighty Hero. I carry the name proudly for it was honored to me by the King of the Great Greenwoods.  Why you may ask. I am nothing to look at. I am just an over sized half bred horse. My ears are too long. My neck it too thick and my feet are too big. My knees carry the signs of my years of long work. My chest is deep and wide. But it is my stout size that has turned out to be an advantage. I am unmovable.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Name

**Author's Note:**

> For the brave and for the strong who put themselves in the line of danger for the innocent.  
> For my Father, who always loved horses.

****

 

I am Valacallon. How old am I? I cannot say. I remember being born of my dam in a field of deep green grass on a day when the sun was warm and shone when the Valar deemed me ready. The years, months, days and hours have little meaning to me. I am not of great breeding. That I know for there will be no others to carry on my lines. I spent years under a collar and worked hard for my master. Nay once did he have to lay the whip or shout in anger too me. I am gentle, I am brave. I am loved. I now have a name for I did not have one before. I am Valacallon. It means Mighty Hero. I carry the name proudly for it was honored to me by the King of the Great Greenwoods.  Why you may ask. I am nothing to look at. I am just an oversized half bred horse. My ears are too long. My neck it too thick and my feet are too big. My knees carry the signs of my years of long work. My chest is deep and wide. But it is my stout size that has turned out to be an advantage. I am unmovable.

After years of hard work under yoke and collar, I have come into the care of an elven lord. As I look around me I can see I do indeed stick out like a sore thumb. Everywhere around me there is beauty. Even the great horses that I share the pasture with have been finely bred. Where they mingle and stir about in groups, I prefer to be alone. Of all the elves of this great realm, I find I am drawn to one in particular. He is the smallest and the youngest. I am told he is a prince. When I lived with the mortals, there were many small ones around. They loved to sit on my back as I worked and I would swim with them in the great pond. This little one is the only one here. Every day he comes to see me and gives me an apple. He carries two in his pockets one for me and one for himself. Then he sits at my feet and tells me of his day. Under the watchful eye of a guard or my elven master or the king himself, the little one climbs on my back and we swim in the pond.

The weather was not favorable on the day the king of the Great Woods gave me my name. With spring comes unsettled weather. The clouds had quickly covered up the sun and strong winds made the trees in the pasture sway and bend. And yet I see the little elfling coming up the hill to the gate. I turn and go to him and I am miffed as to why he is alone. He is never supposed to be out here by himself. I feel I should scold him as he opens the gate and allows it to bang shut. I will not nip him as I do not wish to hurt him. I am sure his sire will see to him. He smiles as he gives me an apple.

The winds have now picked up and the thunder and the streaks of lightening are close. A strong wind pushes the gate open and there is a crack of thunder and a flash of lightening cuts through a tree splintering it in half and setting it aflame. It is what I feared and I take a step over the elfling. His blue eyes grow wide with fear as the horses begin to run towards us and the open gate. I will not move. I will stand my ground. I will protect the elfling beneath me. I must. I watch the fire die as the rains begin.

The others run past me, fear in their eyes. It is only natural for our kind to run. But I won’t. Should I give into the fear the little elfling will be lost. They bump into me and I bare my teeth warning them away. I feel the small arms around my leg tightening. Do not be afraid little one do not let go, I am here and I will protect you.

 Over the howling of the winds, I hear the piercing cries of a sires’ pain. The sight before him must be devastating. He knows where his offspring has gone and has made his way up the hill quickly. He can see the horses running in the pouring rain and he fears the worst. My heart aches for him and yet I know his little one is safe. I also know he does not know this yet.

Slowly he rises from where he has collapsed. His face is hidden in his hands not wanting to look. As the dust settles, a cry is heard. “He is ok, the prince is alive!” It is the voice of my elven master and I whinny in answer to his sudden joy. “Yes the little prince is safe, come and see.”

The elfling looks up at me and I bring my head down to him. He touches my nose in a silent thank you yet is still too frightened to move. His blue eyes are filled with tears and his fair face is stained with the silver tracks of the fallen ones. He hides his face again not wanting to move. The king now has kneeled at my side. “Legolas.” he says gently, as he calls the prince by name. In a moment the elfling is in his sires’ arms and they both sit in the grass and cry.

I will not leave them yet. As the great king of the Great Greenwoods soon rises from the grass, his offspring in his arms, he places his arm around my neck “Thank you Valacallon.” He softly says.

So it does not matter if my neck is too thick, or my feet are too big and my ears are too long. It does not matter that I am not of noble breeding. I am Valacallon, Mighty Hero. And I am loved.

As quickly as the storm came, it is now moving westward. The elves have rounded up the horses and they now walk past me their heads bowed with respect as they enter through the gate. I gentle nuzzle the little prince who smiles once again. I watch them. Sire holding his son as they make their way down the hill. My ears catch the voice of the king. It is not angry but it is stern. “We have some things to discuss ion-nin.”

The end


End file.
